Thursday Silvia had an interview for a job so she couldn't babysit the boy she usually nannies for, so she brought him home for JC and I to watch. Nathan was fascinated by the gerbils, and, like any other 6 year old child, made every effort to terrorize the living daylights out of them. We let the gerbils out of the cage to roam around the living room, and Nathan was worse than a cat trying to chase them around. JC made us hamburgers and french fries (just like McDonalds, he says). Nathan was also super excited because he got to drink Coca Cola, which he's not allowed to have at home, and also cookies, which can't have at home. When Siliva left, I did the dishes while JC set up the hammock outside. The hammock turned into a space ship and in climbed Nathan. JC stayed outside as "Mission Command Base" and swung the hammock as Commander Nathan travelled to Mars. They did all the sounds and official lingo and I was cracking up the whole time. Nathan kept asking JC to swing him all the way around like a jump rope would. When Commander Nathan landed on Mars, JC became the martian. It was too too too too funny. After that we watched Richie Rich in French, and then JC went to take a nap and I played soccer with Nathan outside. JC had asked Nathan earlier if he wanted to play soccer, but Nathan told him he didn't want to play with him because, "You're too big, and too strong, and you're going to win," with a pout of his face. I clearly did not pose the same threat. Plus, when we were playing, I was only allowed to score a goal between the 2 foot wide gate door, while Nathan had the entire length of the house to score on me. Oh to be a kid again.....
Friday I spent the best part of the day doing job research. At one point I had 11 different pages open on my safari browser at the same time (and not a not a single one of them was facebook, email, or my blog) and on every single work abroad page, there were a million and 24 opportunities for foreigners to come to the US to work, and then maybe two or three options for going to Asia somewhere, but I had to do some serious digging and searching to find anything about opportunities for immigrants to work in France, and even at that I'd find like, one. See France? Why can't you be more like the United States? We're clearly so nice making it so easy for foreigners to come and get jobs and share in our American experience and have the chance to live out their dreams. You should learn from our example.
That was dripping with sarcasm by the way.
The sites also mentioned that it's hard for Americans to find work here because they have to compete with the entire European Union, not just French citizens. Any person that is a citizen of any country in the European Union can work in France without needing any visas or special papers or documentation. Therefore, Americans can only do jobs that they are thought to do better than French people, like teaching english. The only way I could get a job is if a European citizen was unable to do the job. Come on now! The US isn't that different from you guys (aside from reasonable grocery stores...)! It's not my fault the colonists decided to separate from Europe's rule and I wouldn't even be in this predicament right now if Georgie boy would have just given us some representation with our taxation! France you were the ones that helped us separate from Europe in the first place and our revolution inspired you to have your own and helped you gain your own independence from monarchies.... you owe us!!! Plus you've historically hated England and warred against them for literally over a thousand years (the Hundred Years War anyone??? Anyone??? Beuller????) So I think I deserve a little more consideration and that you should remember that it's partially your doing that my country wasn't invited to be part of your "super exclusive" trying-to-impress-the-cool-kids club you like to call the European Union and that 234 years ago you thought that was a good thing for us to be liberated. Therefore, since it's your fault, I demand you do more things to help me stay in your country. So there. You can even imagine me stamping my foot to emphasize my anger and seriousness in that last statement.
But, the general consensus on the websites I visited was that where there's a will, there's a way for an American to find work in France. Mais tu DOIS lutter. You HAVE to fight, and fight hard, and not give up. It's a long bloody battle, but if it's in God's will, I can emerge victorious with *hopefully* limited amounts of casualties.
I have to say though, I was really surprised at the amount of websites that encouraged Americans to flat out lie to the French government or do other illegal things in order to do things legally in the end. Like the ends justifies the means (except I wouldn't do that). But seriously, here are things I'm literally copying and pasting from the sites I visited....
" ...to get the visa, you need proof of "sufficient financial resources." That means someone has to give you a notarized statement swearing that they'll send you the equivalent of about $500 a month. Not enough money to meet "sufficient financial resources" requirement? Surely someone can write that notarized statement for you. If not, then either apply for some credit cards or use the ones you have. Use balance transfer checks to transfer credit card money into your bank account to meet the requirement--as of this writing, it should come to about $6,000 a year. Now ask your bank for a letter that says you have that in your account. A statement works as well as a letter, as long as it does not show that you put $6,000 in there all at once. Now, send the bank’s letter or statement along with your visa application as proof of financial resources. Voila"
And this one which REALLY shocked me:
"When you apply for your carte de séjour you must prove you have health insurance. If you don't have health insurance...can you have someone—anyone—send you a letter from America that says you have health insurance, stating the insurance company's name (use a real one), the policy number (make stuff up), and the "fact" that you are covered for the next year? As long as the letter is on good letterhead stationery, it will almost certainly be enough. This may be necessary even if you do have insurance because French authorities usually require you to show that you're covered for the entire time you'll be in France, and most American policies run from month to month."
Do people actually get away with this? Write a fake letter with a fake policy number for a real insurance company??? Now that is one way to become an international criminal wanted for illegal activity in TWO countries real quick!
Friday night I met my friend Melanie and we went for a nice stroll in the Bois de Vincennes. She's an American i met at the big fête we had at the Parc Trembley a few weeks ago. She's from Gettysburg but she goes to State College in PA and she's here doing an internship for the summer. She and I had quite a nice time, and I promised I'd quote her saying, "The French language is a lot like hair. You have bad hair days, well, you have bad french days too."
My sentiments exactly.
We left the Bois and decided to eat dinner at a cafe next to the métro stop. The waiter walked over to where we were sitting and stared at us. Literally, just stared at us for a few moments and then gave us a weird look and gestured with his hands like, "Well, what do you want?" Whoa not in Kansas City anymore Toto. I'm used to, "Hello how is everyone doing today? Welcome to TGIFridays my name is Gina and I'll be taking care of you today. Just to let you know our soup of the day is Chicken Corn Tortilla (it's a little spicy, you know, it's kinda got a kick to it) and we're also featuring $3 margaritas today. Can I get you all started off with something to drink?" with the biggest hugest cheesiest smile that made my cheeks hurt from keeping it on so long and a voice so sweet it was sickening. Yeah, no, not here. We had no menu or anything, we didn't know what there was to be ordered. I decided to play it safe. I asked for tap water. The man stuck his nose up and looked down at me and said, "J'ai pas compris" (I don't understand). I KNOW beyond a shadow of a doubt that I both said the right words and pronounced them correctly. I repeated it twice, and he still just said, "J'ai pas compris". Sigh. So I said, "Fine, just give me whatever water you have." He brings back the most expensive water on the menu. We didn't actually get a menu until an english speaking server decided to come to our rescue. I was tellement upset at this. I'm perfectly capable of ordering in French off a French menu at a French Cafe. But no, we had to advertise to everyone in the area that we were english speaking Americans. I hate feeling different (in that sense)... hate publicly showing that I don't fit in. And I didn't take into account that this is France and not the US and you can't just sit down get your food eat and leave within 45 mins. We ended up being there for over 2 hours waiting to get our food and dessert (which came with Melanie's order) and get the check, so then I was late getting home (in my opinion I also spent entirely too much time sitting around waiting for the train and the bus to decide to come around). As I walked down my street I was thinking to myself, "Please, please don't let them have waited up for me. Please let them all (or most of them anyway) be in bed." But no such luck. Everyone stayed up late to wait up for me. La honte. I felt really bad but no one was mad at me. I apologized to Silvia but she said not to worry, they were just worried I might have gotten lost or something. Me? Get lost in Paris? After all that confidence Gilles and Yadira have shown in me? Whatever would have given them that idea? Maybe they've been reading my blog too much =X
At any rate, I have to say the steak almost made it worth it. It was REALLY REALLY good.
Saturday was the BBQ at our friend Clément's house. He lives kind of far away so we had friends come and pick us up. I have to say, I always get really intimidated and nervous when going to these functions just because there are so many people and hate being that "tag along" person, you know? And the fact that I get anxious about the enormous amounts of chinese accented french around me makes it even harder to speak. But, at the end of the day, I'm always so so so so happy I went because I have enormous amounts of fun. It's true, I stayed pretty quiet for the beginning part of the get together- my friends Yada, Belkacem, and Séverine asked me about how the job search was going and thankfully I was able to communicate with them with pretty decent grammar and without stumbling across too many words. Success. We ate lunch and then Clément's mother played the harp for us, had dessert, and then had a kind of small group about what protestantism is. Then the real fun started. We all went and taught the asians how to do a dance called "Chididi". It apparently comes from Angola but Yadira taught me how to do it and it's loads of fun. Then, Yadira spent hours (literally) teaching us bachata, merengue, and salsa dancing. I first danced with Daniel, who is an excellent dancer. It's funny, because if you look at him, he seems like the stereotypical extremely serious intelligent work/academic oriented geeky asian kid who plays piano and excels at everything he puts his hands to and that we all love to hate. When you get to know him, he's such a clown with an incredible sense of humor and loves to act and dance. Total opposite of what you would expect him to be. Anyway, I got to dance with him and we both picked things up quite quickly and everyone was jealous of us. We joked that we were ready to go pro haha. Daniel's really cool. I got to talk to him a little bit later and turns out, he's watched Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers in the film Top Hat! I get excited when foreign people can share in a part of my world, especially a part that isn't common even for Americans.
But then came the best part. I asked Yadira to put on the Cha Cha Slide. I yelled out the directions in french as DJ Casper says them but it was GREAT. Especially trying to show them how to do the Charlie Brown. Hahahahaha oh goodness gracious it was so much fun. We actually did it twice, once for them to get a feel for it and then again for us all to do it a little more full out hahaha. Oh it was too much fun. But it got better. David, the pastor's son, asked me if I knew something about "soldier boy." And so yes, my dear American friends, I thus ensued to teach the french chinese guys how to "crank that soulja boy" It was great and they were so into it. They were like, "Now wait, what was that part? Could you do that again facing us? " and we had the souja boy song blasting through the speakers in the backyard infiltrating the entire French neighborhood. Be proud of me Americans, I felt quite accomplished at the end of the night. Yadira and I didn't end up getting home until around 10pm and we hadn't even eaten dinner yet. We heated some leftovers up, sat down and watched a few episodes of Criminal Minds together, and then had some fun chit chat because Criminal Minds episodes don't exactly give you the nicest thought to have before going to bed.
Sunday I went to Calvary Chapel Paris. I went to a Calvary Chapel back in Quakertown so at least I'd be somewhat familiar with what would go down during the service. I was surprised to find that the services are held in a "Jews for Jesus" building. That's cool, I guess, but, like everything else here, it's really tiny. There were only 18 people (including the pastor and worship leaders) in the first service, yes I counted. Anyway, they have 2 services, one in French at 9:30 am and one in English at 3pm. They have lunch together in between the services. Both services started about a half hour late, but that's not uncommon for France. You could definitely tell the pastor, Mike Dente, comes from the west coast (I believe from Seattle). The message was on Malachi. He's a very happy man, huge cheesy smile never left his face. Which, I suppose, is a good thing. We didn't go verse by verse like we generally did in Quaketown, only he kinda gave an overview of what happens in the chapter pulled verses from chapter 3 then 1 then 2 to back up what he was saying. Again, not bad, but I do like the verse by verse because then you really get the context of what's being said in Scripture. I'm just used to Pastor Dave's "tell it like it is let's be real here people" messages that blow your mind and leave your jaw on the ground every Sunday. But, I suppose there can only be one Dave Cummings, and Quakertown PA is blessed enough to have him. There's always the internet.
I will say though, the one thing I find about Calvary Chapels across the globe (and I can say that because I've now been to Calvary Chapels in several states and 3 different countries) is that it always feels like a family right away. That's the big feeling I got, that this was just a solid church family. And right away, people were coming right and left to introduce themselves to me and get to know me since I was new. AND they each complimented me on how well I spoke french, and even said to each other, "Listen to her! Doesn't she speak French well?" Ka-chow. Merci Seigneur. I spent a decent amount of time talking with an elderly woman named Patricia who was one of the sweetest people I've ever met. Even the pastor came up to me and introduced himself, and when he found out I was American and not native to the area, the first words out of his mouth were, "Do you have a place to stay?" I also met a girl named Angelica who was from California and she immediately emailed me a web-site for a temp agency to help me find a job and told her if I ever needed anything at all to not hesitate in calling to ask her for help. Yes, generally kind and caring people these Calvary Chapel people are.
For the "lunch" in between services, we walked to a park nearby because the weather was so beautiful. Then we came back for the english service. Turns out, there's a group of missionaries from Seattle who were there with the church. They had started in Lyon, then went to Nice, and now are ending their missions trip in Paris. What they do is that they hold concerts in the street with praise and worship and get this... swing dancing. Yup, they swing dance in the streets and teach the french people who come to watch and then share the gospel with them. That's a pretty neat idea. The group led praise and worship and then Pastor Dente came up and announced that their pastor, Pastor Craig, who was supposed to give the message, had lost his voice and wouldn't be able to after all. So Pastor Dente just translated his notes from the French service into english, but you could tell he wasn't prepared to speak, but it's okay. It did make me feel better because I realized I had understood everything he had said in French and hadn't missed a thing when he repeated it all in english. Score for Gina. The strange thing though, was that I had spoke with Pastor Craig at the picnic we had just had in the park, and even though his voice was a little raspy I just assumed that's what his voice sounded like.. Oh well.
All in all, it was good service, and felt a lot more familiar than the other churches I've been to here. I would like to go again and see what a service without the missionaries is conducted like though. Although, I've made so many connections there already it's kind of hard not to go back. We'll see what happens, I'll keep you updated.
When I got home I made myself dinner (because it was kind of a fend for yourself night) and was watching TV with Yadira when Gilles got a phone call. JC was at the hospital getting stitches. He had been playing soccer (barefoot) in his friend's garden and slid to kick the ball and ended up cutting his foot on a broken glass bottle. He ended up needing to get 12 stitches. Ouch.
It looks pretty nasty and he's got to be on crutches for 10 days before the stitches can come out. Interestingly, crutches here don't go under your arm, attach right under your elbow and you hold on to a piece that comes out for your hand. It seems harder to balance because the crutches are further away from your center of gravity, but oh well. He's also sleeping in my room until the stitches are out, since it's on the first floor, and I'm sleeping in Silvia's bed, since she's on vacation. Cool beans.Monday was largely uneventful... I spent most of the day talking to my friend Sonya on skype and doing research about what to make for dinner tuesday and doing research on what natural/homeopathic remedies could be had for both JC and Silvia. Living with Ed and Jen, I learned all sorts of tricks of the trade when it comes to natural/homeopathic health care. In my opinion, it's better because it's natural and there's less chance of having nasty unforeseen side effects but to each his own. Anyway, I found that Arnica would be ideal (derived from the Arnica flower- it helps blood flow by dilating veins which helps to heal wounds quicker) for JC's foot, along with Calcium Sulfate (which speeds healing) and Vitamins C and E, and then get some essential oils for Silvia's feet (which have been extremely swollen and painful for a few weeks now). But, Monday night, we decided to have another "Movie Night" since Silvia was on vacation in the South of France. It turns out we have the same expression in english and french: "Lorsque le chat parte, les souris dansent" or "When the cat's away, the mice play (except they say dance in french but it's basically the same thing). And indeed we stayed up wayyyyyyyyyy past our "bedtime" to watch Chronicles of Narnia Prince Caspian (because none of them had seen it yet). Oh it was such a wonderful night. I love love love love love this family.
Tuesday night was sooooooooooo much fun! My friend Melanie and our two other friends Rachel and Nathan (who come from Angola) came over for dinner. I decided I was going to make baked ziti for dinner (in the cake pans that would fit in the toaster oven), garlic bread, an oreo "Cookies and Cream Freeze" (which is like a frozen cream cheese mixture with oreos), and deep fried oreos. Yup, deep fried oreos. No one here has ever heard of them. Haha oh this was an adventure. But let's start at the beginning, shall we?
Tuesday morning I checked the website for "Yes It's Here!" because the two boxes of oreos we'd had lasted about a week in this house between me and JC, so I'd need to buy more for dinner. I didn't want to go all the way to the store if they were out of them, and to order online it said they were out of double stuffed oreos. I decided I wouldn't take my chances and would check out the other American Store, Thanksgiving. But first I had to run some errands. I had my work cut out for me.
Off I went on my adventure. First I went to the bank so see if I could cash some checks. The bank was closed because tomorrow's a national holiday. I don't get it.... TOMORROW is the holiday. Why would you close today??? *sigh* well there's nothing I can do about it. There's got to be HSBC's in Paris though, and maybe they'd be open because it's a main city. I then walked to a store called, "Bio-Nature", which has all organic groceries in it and also some oils and creams and such. However, all the things I wanted to get and could find at Bio-Nature were in a locked cabinet, and I didn't want to have to ask someone to open it for me. I remembered that there was another store that had "Homéopathie" in it's name so I tried to look for it. On the way, I passed another store that sold cosmetics, dietary supplements, creams, soaps, etc.... and had the word "SOLDES" (sales) all over the display, so I decided to go in. I was able to get Arnica oil (a bigger bottle for cheaper than it would have been at the first store!), Arnica in a gel roll on form (because until the stitches come out JC's not supposed to get the stitches wet so at least he can use that and spread it on), and Vitamins C and E. Success.
I then got on the train to go to Thanksgiving Paris, the other American grocery store in Paris. Le sigh. Yup, nothing can be that easy. I mean, I got on and off the trains alright. The métro let me off facing the Rue de Rivoli, which I have now been down several times before. Unfortunately, the map wasn't very clear on the ratp (transportation) website and I went the wrong way down the street. Sigh. I did find another HSBC, actually, 2 HSBC banks. I went in the first one and proudly flashed my passport in front of the camera. The man behind the desk muffled something in the microphone and I put my ID closer to the camera. Finally, he asked "Ummmm what would you like to do?" in english. Sigh again. Oh well. It's not my fault I can't understand them half the time I dont understand english speaking people when they muffle their voices so quick into the microphone. Anyway, I responded in french that I'd like to deposit and cash some checks. The man let me in and there were two French women at the counter smiling at me as I walked in. I could feel my face getting red with embarrassment that they had to hear the man speak to me in english, and I determined not to speak a word of english to prove to them that I wasn't a dumb ignorant American and it's just the dumb french microphones which are the problem. I explained that I had an account in the United States and was wondering if I could cash and deposit American checks while I was here in Paris. The man was very nice but told me he didn't think it was possible. He went and asked his supervisor and the supervisor came and apologized to me but said that it's impossible and that I would have to send them back to the United States. Oh well. Nothing gained, only time lost. =/
I kept walking (in the wrong direction) down the Rue de Rivoli and when I got out of the 4th arrondissement and into the 1st, I knew I had gone too far, so I turned around. I walked alllllllllllllllllllll the way back to the métro stop and then in the other direction. I didn't realize that the part of this cobble stone street I was walking on was actually a bus lane that was separate from the (paved) part of the street the cars drive on, so I was walking down the street with a bus right behind me for I dont know how long but when I was finally rendered conscious of this fact and moved out of the way, I could see all the passengers giving me dirty looks through the windows for making their bus go so slow. I won't be making that mistake again.
The street I needed to turn down was less than 2 minutes from the métro stop in the right direction. I had originally walked about 20 mins down the Rue de Rivoli in the wrong direction. Sigh. At least I got to the store. I didn't think it was possible but it was actually smaller than the other one, however, it was set up like an old fashioned country general store and was soooooooo cute. The elderly gentleman who owned the store didn't speak to me in english like the man at the other store had, which I appreciated because it was like having the best of both world- cute country general store with people speaking french. My life in perfect harmony.
Anyway, I wanted to get two boxes of double stuffed oreos (one i'd use for desserts and one just for us to eat) but the man only had 2 boxes left (and they cost 11 euros each!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Imagine paying $14 US for a box of oreos!!!!!!!) and I felt bad because what if some other poor American girl starving and desperate for some small token of sweet deliciousness and comforting familiarity in the form of oreo cookies came to the store after I left and was left heartbroken and devastated after having made a long trek from hours away to the store like I would have been if I had got there and they didn't have oreos? I deeply pondered this while I picked up the pancake mix and ultimately decided.......... this is war in this country and it's every American for themselves. Sorry chick. I get all the oreos. I feel like the selfish englishman.
I paid for my things and went back home. I stopped in a boulangerie and got a baguette to make garlic bread. I walked home and unloaded what I had bought, then went to Intermarché for ziti, ground beef, tomato sauce, mozzarella, ricotta, and provolone. Ziti? check. Ground Beef? Check. Mozzarella? Check. Ricotta? I got the last 2 tubs, but check. Provolone? Womp Womp. Come on France is famous for cheese you've got to have provolone!!!!! I've got to have provolone!!! But sadly, there was no provolone to be had. I checked and rechecked every single label of cheese in the aisle (which is probably what they have the biggest selection of in the store) about 4 times, then literally just stood there for about 4 minutes staring with a pout on my face hoping desperately that provolone cheese would just magically appear. But alas, there was no provolone to be had. I paid for everything else and went back home, then asked Gilles if they have provolone in the marchés, and he said you need to go to a fromagier (a specialty cheeseshop) to get it. There were 2 that were about a 20 minute walk from the house, but Gilles went for me so I could start cooking. Thanks friend =) I made the oreo "cookies and cream freeze" first and got it into the freezer. Gilles came back and said that both fromagiers were closed when he got there, but he picked up something that was like it at the supermarché.
Melanie, Rachel, and Nathan all arrived and I got the baked ziti into the oven. JC and I had a little competition going because he told me his super secret recipe for "French Pancakes" was going to be the best pancakes I ever tasted in my life. He said, "See, that's what's lacking with all you American pancakes, the FRENCH touch." I laughed and told him I'm like Thomas, when I see it I'll believe it. While he was making the pancakes, he and Gilles were teasing me and making fun of Americans by speaking english with an overly dramatic french accent and making fun of the pronunciation of different words and saying that Americans don't know how to speak proper english because we don't pronounce anything the french way. It was one of the most hilarious conversations I've ever been in. The garlic bread, baked ziti, oreo frozen cake, and deep fried oreos were a hit and everyone loved them. Especially the deep fried oreos. Bwahahahaha. I've decided this is going to be my sweet sweet revenge on the country of France. You refuse to give me reasonable ingredients and normal foods in your supermarkets, I'm going to make it my life's mission (for the next few months anyway) to fatten up your country. HAHAHAHAHA. Soon your citizens will all be corrupted and have nonstop cravings for things deep fried and grease dripping, and you'll all be as obese as the characters in Wall-E and will need mobile chairs to get around. BWAHAHAHAHAHA revenge certainly will be SWEET (yes, pun intended =P)
The conversations at dinner contributed to me having one of the best times I've ever had in this country. I couldn't stop laughing. And surprisingly, JC's pancakes weren't that bad. They were a slightly different taste and texture than American pancakes but for never having eaten American pancakes (because he hasn't come to the US yet) it was pretty close, especially since he made them from scratch. I'd tip my hat if I had a hat to tip. Gilles and Melanie did the frying since JC can't be on his feet for too long, and they made me a special pancake in the shape of Mickey Mouse. After dinner, we played card games including "Bataille " which is the french name for Egyptian Rat Screw and then we played several rounds of UNO and a game called "President". All in all, it was QUITE the successful night.
Whew!!! This entry took quite a bit out of me. Bonne Nuit et à la prochaine everyone!
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